Let the Darkness Become You
by LovelyThumper
Summary: The life story of a Slytherin named Pansy Parkinson. Her life growing up in her parents' house, years in Hogwarts, relationship with Draco, and eventual path towards the Death Eaters. But will she take it or not?
1. Default Chapter

Let the Darkness Become You

Chapter One

My family's genealogy runs far back into the time of Merlin, our bloodlines pure and ancient. Parkinson was a name drawn from noble lineage, and one that remained untainted through the centuries. A name that has forever been blessed with a wealth and a prestige that left most of the wizarding world in awe or fear of us. While our reputation nowhere neared that of the Malfoys, we were respected. Not only for our money, but for the social status of supremacy that my parents had acquired over the years.

I was born into this life of prestige on a late summer evening in June, second daughter to Victor Parkinson and his young wife Penelope. At the time, they were the current heirs to the Parkinson Estate, which sat on the fringes of Hastings, on the south coast. It was not a happy event, my birth, for my parents had been trying for a son and heir, since their first child had been female. Unfortunately for myself, I turned out to be female also, instantly cursing me as the "disappointment."

It was a title that would curse me. The only person I never could please was myself. It would be many years before the harsh lessons of life would teach me to appreciate who I was.

However, I was well cared for as a child. I even have the gleeful memories of taking rides with Father upon one of his expensive Aethonans, and having tea with Mother and my aunts. As I grew, my position and relationship with my parent's would change. Little did I know that this change would be one of the largest obstacles I would ever overcome.

"No, Pansy," Mother said firmly, before turning back to her conversation with the nervous seamstress.

I made a face behind her back, but stopped my whining. At seven I had learned that when Mother or Father said no, there would be no more heard about it. I turned to look towards the dress once again, ignoring my sister's haughty glance as she joined in the conversation. At eleven Zella was considered old enough to pick out her own dresses, with Mother's approval, of course.

Unfortunately, I had to wear whatever Mother decreed appropriate for the ball. I stole another glance at the dress before me, my eyes sweeping over the beautiful, elaborately embroidered red fabric and mentally tracing the graceful folds. I was too small to wear it, but I had wanted a smaller one made for me as Zella was getting done. Instead I would be forced to wear the plain but expensive black dress my mother had chosen for me. Appearance was always a must in my family, and the more expensive the better.

I glared at the dress that was currently being held by one of our maids, Linda. The girl grinned in amusement at my resentment and I glared at her too. I hated being laughed at.

"Stop making those faces, child!" Mother snapped. She had turned while I was still glaring at Linda, and had her hands on her hips.

"I swear," she continued, handing the rest of her purchases to the maid, "what am I going to do with you? Young ladies shouldn't make themselves look so conspicuous in public!"

I ducked my head shamefully, face heating as Zella laughed. Mother sighed from above me, muttering under her breath as she propelled my sister and me out of the door, Linda bustling behind us.

"Mother?" Zella asked. "Can I have an owl for school?"

"We'll see," she replied absently, eyeing the dense crowd with obvious disgust.

I tried to mirror her expression, knowing what was souring her mood. Parkinsons never mixed with _ordinary_ wizards, and Diagon Alley was filled with them as parents prepared to send their children off to school in two weeks.

I saw a lot of people Zella's age dodging through the crowds and peering into windows. My sister obviously did too, because her expression turned to one of longing. I smirked to myself. Mother would never allow her to run around like everyone else.

Our mother sighed. "Linda," she beckoned.

She was there in an instant. All of our servants had been trained to perfection. Those who messed up tended to disappear. I didn't know where they went.

"Bring those home," Mother directed, "then return for Zella's supplies. Don't worry about the expense, but tell them to send us an outline of the costs. I will be at Miranda's, going over the guest list."

The maid nodded, moving into the flow of the crowd immediately. "But Mother!" Zella protested. "I wanted to-"

She cut off her sentence as Mother raised a brow; that was all that was needed. Zella bowed her head sullenly. "Thank you for arranging for my things," she replied meekly.

Mother didn't see the scowl on her daughter's face as she patted her cheek triumphantly, thoughts already turned elsewhere. But I did, and I never forgot it.

"I hate black," I muttered with loathing as Linda slipped the garment over my head, muffling my statement.

Zella sighed. She was sitting at her vanity table, dragging a brush through her dark brown curls.

"You know you can't do anything about it," she informed me, piling her hair on top of her head and examining the effect. "Mother wouldn't allow you to wear anything else."

Looking at my reflection in the full length mirror, I twisted my face in distaste, causing my nose to flatten noticeably. Zella walked up behind me, her eyes, glinting in amusement, only serving to sour my mood. Seven I might be, but I knew when I looked ridiculous.

The black of the dress made me look like some sort of porcelain doll, with pale skin and a childlike face. My black curls were tamed into a simple bow, and even my blue eyes stared out at myself like those from a doll, glazed and lifeless. I shivered.

Zella looked beautiful, however, the gold of the dress setting off her tanned skin and adding highlights to her brown curls. Her hair remained piled on her head, revealing a long neck and aristocratic face. Her eyes glinted out at me, as blue as my own. They were the Parkinson eyes, as my Father often chuckled to himself. It was the only feature Zella had inherited from him.

My mood dimmed - standing next to Zella, I felt like an awkward shadow. I was still too much a girl who wanted to grow up faster than she could, whereas Zella was a girl entering the exciting stages of adolescence. I envied her.

Apparently I wasn't the only one who had noticed the changes that were permeating my sister. Father raised his brows in silent approval as Mother smirked, showing her pleasure in her eldest daughter. I stayed back as they entered the ballroom, watching as inevitable events unfolded, wheeling my sister away.

Custom among my family said that Zella was nearing an age for betrothal. Tradition would have had her bonded to another since birth, but thankfully the new ideas of this century had already broken into our household, saving both my sister and me from an early engagement.

I stayed away from the festivities of the ball, as I knew I must. A seven year old only got in the way and annoyed those of more mature ages, as my parents saw it. Zella, however, danced with many young men and chatted with girls I didn't know.

Where had Zella suddenly met all these people? There was one person in particular that caught my eye. He was tall and dark, I really didn't have anything to compare him with, to say that he was handsome, but I knew that Zella thought so. She spent most of the night at his side, blushing under his firm gaze. I didn't like him.

"Neil Lestrange," a voice behind me said, causing me to jump in surprise.

Swirling around, shocked to have been caught, I found myself staring at a boy around my age. He stared at me unabashedly, taking in the hideous black dress as he smirked. His short blonde hair was perfectly combed and his dress robes, which were also black, were immaculate.

"What?" I asked him.

"That's Neil Lestrange," he informed me, pointing to the boy that Zella was currently dancing with… _again._

"Oh," I replied dumbly, still surprised to see someone my own age there. "How do you know?"

"I know everyone," he replied smugly, although he couldn't possibly have proven that. "Besides, he's a cousin of one of my father's associates."

I nodded, that sounded more accurate. The boy was looking at my dress again. I frowned- he was a rather rude person. You would have thought that anyone our age would have better manners by now, especially if you grew up in one of our families.

He obviously thought the same since he scowled when I turned my back on him rudely, to watch my sister with possessive eyes. I really didn't like that boy… what was his name again? Neil?

A voice cleared its throat behind me. I sighed, turning to look at him. "Yes?" I asked.

He wasn't smirking anymore, but seemed angry. "You didn't introduce yourself."

I stared at him causing his frown to deepen across his young face. "You were supposed to introduce yourself," he insisted.

"You came over here first," I pointed out, turning away again.

He grabbed my arm angrily to thwart me from doing so. "What do you want?" I hissed in frustration.

"A name." He was annoyingly determined, gray eyes intent on me.

I glared at him. "Will you go away if I give it to you?"

He shrugged.

"Pansy," I snapped at him. "Pansy Parkinson."

The boy nodded, apparently satisfied. I scowled when he didn't return the favor. "And you are?"

He grinned at me, reading my irritation. "Draco Malfoy," he replied.

Later that night I added Draco Malfoy to my list of people I did not like. He was second only to Neil Lestrange.


	2. Chapter Two

Let the Darkness Become You

Chapter Two

It was only a month after my sister's departure to Hogwarts for the first time, and already things had become different. My mother immediately informed me that I was to begin my training as a representative of the family name. This included basic skills in my Hogwarts academic studies, a multitude of etiquette lessons, and a certain air of sophistication that I never seemed to grasp.

I was told that all of these requirements would only help to enhance the arts of deceit and manipulation that I would later need to rise in the ranks of my own class. At the time I was confused as to what this meant, but was aware that if I did not perfect every skill to satisfaction there would be dire consequences for my lack of interest.

These lessons continued throughout my remaining years at home, with Mother relentlessly urging me on as I went through tutor after tutor, all of whom had some precise skill to offer me to see me succeed in my set path through life. I often had the feeling of a small ship, bobbing precariously throughout a hurricane with no sail and only the wave of lessons and morals to support me as they guided me through it all. Their way remained my only way of salvation.

The more I tried to row on my own the worse I seemed to do. My only bright points would be when Zella came home for the summer, full of stories of Hogwarts and sympathetic to my struggles.

"It's hard," she confided in me late one night as I lay on her bed, watching her brush her hair one hundred times; as we did every night.

I sighed in frustration. "Why must we do it?"

"Because of who we are," she explained patiently. In the mirror her face was reflected back towards me, showing her surprise. "We are Parkinsons, pureblooded and almost royal compared to others. It is demanded of us-"

"...to fulfill the family name," I chorused along with her, familiar with Mother's teachings.

Zella smiled at me. "You'll get it eventually."

I nodded glumly, all the while dourly thinking that I would never compare to the vision of beauty before me, at least not in my parents' eyes.

Just like during the summers throughout our childhood, there were balls to be attended every weekend. My parents had always remained at the center of proper society, and we were known for our grand parties. Not to mention that our manor, looked out over Pett Beach, its glimmering surface magnificent at sunset.

I was ten at the time, and still not considered old enough to enter the world on my own as a "thinking" individual. Once again I was wearing one of Mother's hand-picked dresses, and it was just as hideous as the others had been. While it was not the trademark black it was almost just as bad - it was _pink! _And a pale pink at that!

The offending dress did not do anything for me except draw unwanted attention to the fact that I looked like a walking piece of discarded bubblegum. I'm sure that my disgruntled expression did nothing to improve my looks either.

"Nice dress."

I whirled around, preparing to defend what remained of my dignity only to face a girl my own age. Unlike myself, however, she was better dressed for the occasion in a stylish but simple red dress. The dress had obviously been adjusted to shift attention away from her heavyset, rather bland appearance and emphasize a long, elegant neck.

Her hair was an alluring shade of gold and extremely thick, pulled back in a braid. Dark brown eyes narrowed at my somewhat defensive reaction and her strong, masculine jaw was set in disapproval.

Realizing I was staring at her rudely, I immediately closed my mouth. I used the gesture of settling my skirts to school my face into the cool, calculating perception of calm that my mother had ordered me to strive towards in some hope of perfection.

"Thank you," I replied, voice steady. "I'm Pansy Parkinson."

She nodded. "I know," she informed me arrogantly. "You're Zella's younger sister."

It wasn't a question. This wasn't going well at all! Had all of those lessons been for nothing?

The corners of her mouth lifted into a smirk of amusement, making it difficult not to scowl at her. What in Salazar's name was so funny?

"I'm Miranda Bulstrode's daughter."

I stared at her, suddenly recognizing the familiar glint in her eyes, the lifted cheekbones, thin lips. Miranda Bulstrode had been friends with my mother ever since their schooldays and I was just now getting to meet her daughter!

I searched for the name I had heard mentioned before. "Mindy?" I guessed.

She laughed at that, a deep, hearty chuckle. "Millicent," she supplied.

"Why haven't I met you before?" I couldn't resist asking.

Millicent raised a brow. A ridiculous gesture for most our age, but when she did it, it remained classic. "Oh," she shrugged, "you know how it is. Mother didn't think I was ready for a social engagement until I was older."

I nodded, surprised to hear her speak so about her mother. I would have been switched mercilessly for speaking so rudely, not to mention in public! My new acquaintance waited, apparently expecting the same confession from myself but I remained quiet, studying the vaulting columns of our ballroom.

"We will begin at Hogwarts next year," she began again, in a new attempt at conversation.

Eagerly picking up on the topic we discussed our hopes and expectations until dinner was announced. It wasn't until Millicent and I were seating ourselves that I noticed something was different. The table was falling silent, the adults expectantly waiting.

I looked towards my father as he stood, his broad figure impressive, the glint of silver in his black hair the only sign of aging. "Honored guests," he began.

Zella, who was seated across from me, smiled at Neil, who had also managed to attend the ball. For some reason my heartbeat seemed to be pounding against my ears.

"I am privileged as a father to make known to you all that my eldest daughter Zella," he motioned for her to rise, and she did so demurely, eyes downcast, a faint blush spreading prettily over her features, "is now betrothed to Neil Lestrange."

The table reacted automatically, an ardent applause spreading around the room, even though this was what they must have been expecting. I, however, remained staring at my sister in shock, my expression dumbfounded.

Engaged?

At fourteen?

I couldn't believe it. She was just entering her fourth year at Hogwarts and she was engaged! A shadow crept over me as I continued to stare, events slowing...

Zella was smirking at Neil, who looked back at her seriously, arching a sophisticated brow. His eyes seemed too devouring... too assured.

A beaming Mother and Father watched their daughter knowingly as the nearby guests smiled and congratulated them. None of them seemed bothered by the fact that this had all been articulately approved and decided without Zella's agreement. It could have been someone she loathed or didn't even know, other than the handsome boy who now whispered something in her ear, causing her to giggle.

I had no doubts that Zella's betrothal would lead to my own. My entire life would be promised away, all neatly packaged and mailed towards a destiny I suddenly realized I would never get to choose.

"Hello, sis," Neil teased.

He tugged on one of my curls as he strode confidently into our entrance hall, managing to look strikingly handsome as always.

I frowned at him, closing the book I had been flipping through on my way to the family room. Ever since the engagement of Neil to my sister almost a year earlier, he had cursed me with that irritating nickname, one he knew I loathed.

"Where's Zel?" he demanded, dark eyes supervising the servants closely as they took hold of the multitude of bags that had come with him.

As usual, Neil hadn't announced that he was coming for a visit as courtesy demanded. He'd developed a lot of these annoying habits over the past year.

"Shopping with Mother," I answered shortly, brushing away a dark curl.

He grinned at me.

"I can wait. In the meantime, let me introduce you to my guest."

I hadn't realized that someone else was in the room. As I glanced behind him in surprise, he beckoned the other person forward.

"May I present," Neil said with obvious delight, "Draco Malfoy."

I remembered the boy from some years earlier. He had changed some, about as much as myself, I supposed. He was the same height as me and wore his hair slicked back in a horrible attempt to look older than the eleven years he was. He still had that irritating smirk that he had displayed the last time I had seen him.

"Pleasure," I said coolly.

Neil frowned at me but Draco's smirk just deepened. To my amazement, he grabbed my hand and bowed formally over it.

"The pleasure is all mine," he murmured.

I quickly snatched my hand back, not impressed in the least by his attempt at suaveness.

"What are you doing here?"

Both of them raised their brows in surprise. I didn't care if I was rude or not.

"Draco is staying for the summer with me," Neil answered carefully, his frown significant. "We are going to be visiting for a few weeks."

That summer quickly became one of the worst in my life. With only two months until I began my life at Hogwarts, the days seemed to drag by unceremoniously. Protocol demanded that I attend to Draco's every entertainment, as the only hostess his own age. A duty I performed with reluctance.

"What do you want now?" I snapped, as I heard footsteps approach.

I seldom had time to myself these days, and when I did I normally escaped to our gardens, which covered a large portion of the estate. Unfortunately, the attempt to avoid my troublesome shadow did not work. Looking up, my anger deepened as Draco grinned.

"Something bothering you?" he wondered innocently.

"I don't like having to play hostess to a sniveling little brat," I answered rather truthfully.

I expected him to be angry, insulted at least, but he just smirked at me. "I can't exactly say it's been the most pleasurable summer I've ever had."

My eyes narrowed dangerously. "If you had been a little more willing to obe-"

"If you had been a little more interesting!" he interrupted mockingly, face screwed up in an imitation of me at my worst.

I smiled slightly, watching as he looked down to scuff a foot across the gravel, strands of blonde falling across his face.

"Luckily for you, I am leaving today."

Only a strong attempt at control kept my surprise and pleasure from showing. "Oh?" I commented.

"Neil has business to attend to with his father, and I have to go home, too."

He stopped, as if waiting, expecting something.

"A pity," I said sarcastically, rising to walk towards him. "I was hoping you would stay at least another week to make sure my entire summer would be ruined."

He looked up, his eyes meeting my own in a shared joke. Our first in his three-week-long stay. I wasn't surprised when he reached out and captured my hand to bow over it, much as he had done his first day here. Draco was always trying to achieve the suaveness and maturity that would continue to elude him until he grew into adolescence.

"Goodbye, Pansy."

"Goodbye," I replied, watching him walk from the garden, footsteps light on the graveled path.


	3. Chapter Three

Let the Darkness Become You

Chapter Three

There were so many people! I looked about me in amazement as I followed my parents through the crowds of Platform Nine and Three Quarters. I didn't recognize any of them, a fact that would soon need to be amended. It was important to always be aware of who everyone was, whether they were worth knowing or not.

I stopped, clasping my hands together expectantly as my parents turned to bid me farewell. My black robes were immaculate, my unruly hair twisted into a thick braid and a new cloak draped over my shoulders. No Parkinson could be seen in public as anything other than what we were... wizarding superiors.

"Remember, Pansy," Mother began, "you now have a name and reputation to maintain. I know that you will do your best to bring pride to the family."

She kissed the air above my head in her idea of a motherly embrace, even that small gesture showing a little too much publicly. I noticed a nearby group of students that I didn't know watching us intently, whispering.

Father immediately drew me from my thoughts as he added, "Be careful in how you choose to represent yourself, and be wise in your choice of friends."

My father had never been a subtle man and his last comment was intended as a reminder that I was only to consort with those of my own status... purebloods. I carefully let my face slacken, not allowing the surprise I felt at his words to show in my expression- did he honestly expect me to do otherwise?

A horrible idea then entered into my head. What if I started being friendly to a Muggleborn without even knowing it! Then I immediately shrugged the idea away... I would know. Muggleborns lacked all sense of refinement (a word I picked up from Mother) and therefore should not be hard to identify. (This paragraph is a new addition. I also wanted to give a sense of Pansy mimicking or emulating thoughts that are not her own, thus her using her Mother's terms for things. ;)

"Victor."

I was surprised at the interruption, and turned to stare up at Lucius Malfoy. He was a handsome man with a face that was finely chiseled to perfection, with long white blonde hair falling past his shoulders, and shorter strands into harsh grey eyes. Mister Malfoy was a familiar sight in our manor, he and his wife attended almost every ball we held and they often held private dinners together with my parents.

Father nodded at him, blue eyes sweeping to glance towards those around us. There was now a clearing surrounding us, people not quite avoiding us, but none of them meeting our eyes and none within ten paces. Mother pursed her lips in irritation at Lucius before turning towards me with a faked honeyed smile reserved for those of lesser "intelligence".

"Go and board the train now, Pansy," she ordered. "Your father and I will see you at Christmas."

I nodded, turning away just as Lucius Malfoy said, "We need to talk."

"Now?" Father snapped in irritation. The rest of the conversation was quickly absorbed in the din of the crowd as I made my way towards the train.

The train was almost completely full, students filling and blocking the corridor. I sighed as I waited impatiently for the crowd to clear. Some boy had a _creature _in a box, which was causing a large crowd to grow in front of his compartment door. I couldn't believe that something so mundane would honestly attract that sort of attention.

"Pansy!"

I turned at my name to smile at Millicent. In the year since I had first met her we had become good friends, owling each other religiously. Her oval face was flushed with excitement, strands of hair falling out of her braid and around her face as she wove between crowds of students towards me.

"We have a compartment in the back," she said breathlessly as she reached my side.

She also gave the crowd a derisive sneer. "Come on," she urged, leading me away from the crowd to push through the mass of people now assembling behind us.

"Hey Jordan!" a red haired boy beside me shouted, practically in my ear.

I scowled darkly at him, causing him to smile, before weaving between the crowd. "What've you got now?" I heard him ask as I continued away from the crowd.

We had hardly left the murmur of the crowd behind before Millicent turned towards me. "Have you heard?" she asked me, brown eyes glinting.

"Heard what?" I asked absently, peering into compartments we passed.

She sighed. "Harry Potter is on the train!"

I stopped in the corridor, events clicking into place as I remembered Lucius Malfoy's serious face and Father's irritation. It would make sense...

Dark Arts was something that ran in my family, something that ran through all prestigious pureblooded families. Harry Potter had been the one that stopped the Death Eaters from conquering the wizarding world with the Dark Lord, and now he was here, on this very train. For some reason it felt strange to me.

"How do you know?" I wondered out loud, continuing to move on down the aisle.

She shrugged. "Word travels fast. Someone saw him, you know, with the scar and all. Ah, here it is."

Our arrival at the compartment prevented me from questioning her further as three heads looked up at our entrance. I smiled at them, hiding my nervousness with composed skill.

"Hello," I said.

The boy to my left nodded, his eyes roaming over me in an intense study of my features. He was skinny and pale with a mop of black hair and beady eyes. The two girls on my right smiled with more warmth.

"Hi," the honey blonde on the right said, hazel eyes questioning above freckled cheeks. "I'm Tracey Davis."

I nodded towards her. "Pansy Parkinson," I replied.

"I've heard of you," the other girl said with a frown. "Didn't you get engaged last year?"

"That was my sister Zella," I corrected her. "She's a sixth year."

She nodded, brown hair falling in a curtain around her. "My parents were there for the announcement." At my blank look she added, "Greengrass? I'm Daphne."

I knew the Greengrasses, they were some old school friends that were part of my parents' inner circle.

Millicent placed herself next to the pale boy, motioning for me to sit across from her. His eyes followed me predatorily; I felt like an insect in that emotionless gaze.

"Theodore," he finally said, his voice surprisingly deep.

I looked at his proffered hand in surprise before accepting it, and was even more surprised when he lifted it to kiss.

"Already flirting, Nott?" a voice drawled lazily from the door.

I tensed, claiming my hand back and turning only to look up into the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. His eyes met my own, as he nodded in greeting before turning back towards Theodore, lounging against one side of the door. "Millicent will start to get jealous."

The blonde blushed, to her apparent frustration, muttering something as Theodore grinned at her in amusement. "Not married yet, are we?" he declared, inviting them both to join in on the joke.

I wasn't aware of my jaw dropping. "You're engaged?" I blurted without thinking, protocol entirely forgotten.

I instantly snapped my mouth shut as they all stared at me incredulously before laughing. Millicent merely grinned, however. "Betrothed," she explained. "We have been for four years."

It seemed almost ludicrous for someone our age to even be betrothed, I could barely imagine the concept.

_Zella was only fourteen, _a part of me spoke up, almost mockingly. I immediately crushed the thought, focusing on the light conversation that had followed my stunned words, uncomfortably aware of Draco's eyes on me the entire time.

_Another Parkinson, isn't it, hmm? _

I barely suppressed a flinch as I heard the voice of the Sorting Hat, muttering in my ear.

_Yes... yes, far different from the older sibling. Ambitious, relentless, loyal, yet manipulative... interesting. There is no doubt you will go far. I know just where I'll put you - _"SLYTHERIN!"

A loud cheer erupted as I went to join the house that all the others had been sorted into, all of them waiting for my approach at the end of the table. Zella gave me a congratulatory wink as I seated myself next to Tracey, at a table that generations of my family had sat at since before I was born.

I watched closely as the next student to take my place upon the stool stepped forward. There didn't look to be anyone else of much importance in the quickly thinning crowd, except for that Potter kid. I immediately didn't like him- he was rude, self centered, and far too proud of the fact that he was famous. He hadn't even shaken Draco's proffered hand of friendship. I sniffed with disdain, he certainly wouldn't make Slytherin.

As if to prove my opinion correct, when his turn came the hall fell silent with anticipation. It seemed to last forever until the Sorting Hat finally announced "GRYFFINDOR". The noise from that side of the hall was deafening.

_Good riddance, _I thought in scorn, noticing that the rest of my friends who had witnessed Draco's humiliation seemed to think the same. I noticed that Draco in particular seemed intent upon glaring at the back of that raven head, an expression of loathing apparent among his features.

Once the cheers had settled we started to chat amongst ourselves, not caring who got sorted into the other houses.

"Your sister is very pretty," Tracey commented, looking down the table.

It was not the first time I had heard that. I looked down the table to see Zella laughing with her friends. Neil, as always, was a constant presence at her side. I seldom saw them without one another.

"SLYTHERIN!"

I looked up in surprise, as did everyone else at the table; we had assumed that all our people were sorted. The boy that the hat revealed was no one I knew and apparently was a complete puzzle to the others.

"Who is that?" Daphne whispered as he neared our end.

"Blaise Zabini," Theodore answered.

Draco who sat on the other side of me, raised a brow. "You know him?"

The boy shrugged. "Somewhat," he admitted with a frown.

As he neared I studied him with interest. His brown hair was ruffled, curling around his ears and shading his hazel eyes as he sat near us.

"Hello," he said in greeting, attempting a smile.

We all replied dutifully as manners dictated we must before falling in among our own conversations once more, leaving the new boy to the mercy of Theodore and Draco as they questioned him curiously. If there was one thing all of us had been taught more than others it was that enemies could lurk even in your presence.

Unfortunate for Blaise he was unknown territory, and that made him an enemy.

Hogwarts was different to the way I had first thought it would be. Especially from the perspective I got as a first year Slytherin. I quickly learned that Gryffindors were the favourites not only among the professors but even with the headmaster.

I was scandalized to realize that most of Hogwarts thought us rude and arrogant when it was completely the opposite way around. When we talked quietly in class or answered questions without hesitation it wasn't because we were showoffs or arrogant, but for the simple reason that we had had tutors for three years prior to Hogwarts.

We also weren't rude to other houses without provocation; their instant bias against us merely placed us on uneven ground that forced the members of my house to demean them publicly in order to make us equal once more. If the other houses simply had more backbone and manners, I doubt many of us would have fought at all. The Ravenclaws weren't all that bad truly, except that they didn't like being put to shame by us, the Slytherins who - in their opinion - should have been as stupid as the other two houses.

There was one group in particular that I noticed this in the most. We had dubbed them the "Dream Team" since they were hardly ever apart. This pathetic little group consisted of Potter, with his sidekick Weasley, and that irritating little Mudblood; Longbottom would occasionally tag along as well. I couldn't imagine why he'd want to. The others hardly noticed his presence.

I rolled my eyes as I watched Granger's hand go up in Transfiguration for the umpteenth time. As usual McGonagall called upon one of her favourite students. I scowled as she was awarded five points for answering a rather basic question on Switching Spells.

McGonagall then set us a task and frowned towards our side of the classroom as my fellow house mates and I continued our conversations from earlier. We didn't need to practice something so simple as a Switching Spell. Instead, I rather enjoyed watching Longbottom screw up his spell.

Millicent shook her head. "Pathetic," she muttered, having followed my gaze.

I spared her a grin. "Still going to Rome for Christmas?"

She nodded. "We go every year. It's a family tradition now."

Tracey, who sat before us turned around. "What are you doing, Pansy?"

"Probably another boring ball," I replied. "We have one for every other occasion. Why not Christmas?"

Daphne now looked over at us in interest from her conversation with Seamus Finnigan, a Gryffindor. Unlike the rest of us, Daphne went out of her way to associate herself with the other houses, determined to show them Slytherin was not as vile as all the rumours said. I personally thought that she was wasting her time.

"Will Neil be there?" she inquired, brown eyes widening in interest.

All of the females in Slytherin, from first to seventh year, had a particular interest in my soon to be brother-in-law. He was hard not to notice, not only for his breathtaking good looks, but the fact that he was a Lestrange. He was practically a Slytherin celebrity as far as everyone else was concerned.

We all knew that his second cousins Rabastan and Rodophus Lestrange, had been faithful servants of the Dark Lord and now were in Azkaban, awaiting his return. Even though many of us were uncertain of our own families' statuses in such areas Neil was still famous within our house for his family name. A name much feared. And if there was anything Slytherins loved more than wealth and respect, it was to be feared.

I pursed my lips in thought. "No... I think Zella said something about him having to confer on something with his father."

"A pity," Daphne sighed, since she was probably going to attend the ball with her family.

At our age most of us were deemed mature enough to finally be allowed in public without shaming our parents or our name.

A loud voice cleared from behind us, and much to my irritation I jumped in surprise. "Ladies," McGonagall's eyes pierced into each of us. "Have you all accomplished a suitable Switching Spell?"

"Of course, Professor," I replied, expression obedient.

She raised a doubtful brow that made my jaw clench while the Gryffindors around us snickered.

"Then you will have no problem in showing the rest of the class," she added.

I sighed but turned towards my button and shell without further ado. "_Selarum," _I commanded, with a point of my wand.

The button and shell immediately changed into the image of each other; the button taking on the pearly iridescence of the shell while the shell transformed into a small black button.

McGonagall's face tightened imperceptibly as I smirked up at her.

"Five points from Slytherin for being cheeky, Miss Parkinson."

I shrugged, annoying her further as she returned to the front of the classroom to resume the lesson. I knew that we would get it back in Potions tomorrow; one of our only fair classes.

_Not exactly fair, _my mind reminded me.

But Snape only evened the scales somewhat between ourselves and the other houses. I already knew that the remainder of my year would be spent much in this manner, as my house combated the ridicule and rumours of the others. We couldn't help that we were different or even superior; we had been born to it. They were just jealous


	4. Chapter Four

Let the Darkness Become You

Chapter Four

For my whole life I have had lesson after lesson drilled into my head. Idea followed by idea that was carefully crafted into my own philosophies. The sudden freedom of school became a large culture shock to me as I was forced, day after day, to make my own decisions. It was to be the making of me, or so I was informed.

However, there were times when too much freedom was unconventional. Times when, as a Parkinson, I must step down and yield to houses that were more powerful than my own. A struggle, since I was not used to giving up the fight in favor of better benefits. I preferred to bargain my way around, to manipulate others to my side.

But if I ever did get too carried away there was always dear, dependable Zella there to set me down the right path once more...

I scowled over at the table of laughing third year Gryffindors darkly, but as I was a first year my expression carried little weight. I was shocked that Madam Pince would allow them to be so loud, but then again they _were _Gryffindors. Teachers always let the Gryffindors break the rules, while it was most commonly my own house that got penalized.

I watched as Zella entered the library, surprisingly alone, and smiled as she looked around, choosing to walk towards my isolated table in the corner.

"Homework?" she asked as she took a seat.

"Dark Arts," I replied.

She nodded absently, obviously not having come here to talk to me about school.

"I just left the common room to hear Draco Malfoy complain that you were a rude, vindictive, little bitch," she informed me unceremoniously.

I felt my face darken angrily at her words. The situation between Draco and myself had actually worsened since our mutual agreement over the past summer. We had taken to fighting a lot in the common room and I assumed that it had to do with our maturity levels. I had always heard that girls mature faster than boys.

"He wouldn't shut it about Potter's bloody position on the Quidditch Team," I replied defensively. "That happened in September, it's now December!"

I sighed in frustration. For some reason every thing that Draco did could ride my last nerve. The way he was always trying to look and act older than he was. His false, obviously rehearsed, lines and annoying habit at snapping back with surprisingly good, cutting remarks. He just drove me crazy!

Zella held the faint edges of a smirk on her face as she said, "He's a Malfoy."

As if that was enough explanation!

"He's a spoiled rich little brat who didn't get paddled nearly enough growing up!"

It was a weak retort and I knew it. None of us had been paddled growing up- there were other methods for such discipline among our families and an heir would never be paddled.

My sister's expression suddenly became serious. "You need to be nicer to him," she scolded me. "He will one day have strong ties. Our family is powerful, but no one messes with the Malfoys."

I understood her meaning; building and acquiring allies was something we started even at my age. I nodded, the words of Zella, my older sibling, carried all the weight they would have if Mother or Father had said them.

"What do you think of the Malfoy boy Pansy?"

It was all I could do not to stare at my Mother in shock as we moved among the crowds of wizard and witches that had come to our annual Christmas Ball. Thankfully she didn't notice my slip in composure as she smiled and waved to those nearest us.

I looked around me, wondering what had brought up the subject before spying Draco dancing with someone on the dance floor, the golden chandeliers above casting light upon his blonde hair. I hadn't known he was here.

"I know of him," I answered, "and have spoken to him throughout the school year. I can't say that my impression has been a good one."

Mother smirked, raising an elegant brow. "Oh? How so?"

I adjust the skirts of my blue dress robes purposefully, feeling uncomfortable with the question. Mother's eyes pierced through me, forcing me to answer.

"He complains," I began, "he's loud, rude, tactless and has no consideration whatsoever."

Her husky laugh seemed almost a purr. "He is a boy still. It will change."

I froze in midstep. If it had been me in Draco's shoes, age would have been no excuse for my behavior.

"Lucius does favor him," she added, as if to herself.

I nodded, that would definitely explain a lot.

Her questions bothered me and made me curious, but I did not voice such thoughts. I never questioned my parents.

"Run along now Pansy," she said, eyes drifting to a gathering of her personal friends. "Dance a little."

I curtsied obediently but she hardly noticed as she walked forward to leave me in her wake. To her I was merely an object whose value had not yet been determined.

Wanting to avoid Draco I veered towards where I had last seen Daphne with her parents. A firm hand on my arm stopped me before I got far. Whirling around, a sharp retort upon my tongue, I suddenly frowned at the man before me.

Neil's eyes glinted at me in amusement; he loved to bring out the worst in me. It had been a disappointment to discover he had managed to make it to the ball after all.

"A dance, little sister?" he questioned, gesturing towards the dance floor as a new waltz was struck up.

Damn protocol!

Zella smiled at us as he led me towards the centre. He really wasn't a bad dancer; I just couldn't feel comfortable around him.

"You don't like me," he said after we'd been dancing a few moments.

I smiled at him. "I don't?"

His own smile mirrored my own in its almost mechanical detachedness. "No you don't. Your reluctance to warm up to me worries your sister."

_Good_, I thought snidely. But aloud I simply uttered a proper apology.

"You are just making her nervous about the marriage," he insisted, moving gracefully to twirl me about.

When we were face to face again I looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "The wedding won't be for another year," I pointed out. "She has time to think."

I barely managed to keep the shiver from jolting down my back as his expression turned dark. "She doesn't need to think about it and you don't need to make her worried. We will be married."

I was tired of having to act polite. "Unfortunately," I muttered, wincing as his grip tightened.

"I get what I want Pansy," he drawled in my ear. "Understand?"

I nodded as the dance ended, tears of pain clouding my gaze. I understood perfectly. Neil Lestrange was a dangerous man and he would not let anyone get in the way of his ambition. It was a trait that I feared more than I had ever feared anything in my life.

He smiled down at me, expression completely different from a second ago.

"Thanks for the dance Sis," he whispered, giving me a peck on the cheek.

I watched with dread as he returned to Zella's side at a nearby table, dark eyes readable even from here as he looked down on her tenderly. Those eyes were easily readable as the possessive gaze of one who controlled every aspect of his life, including others.

I shivered. Neil Lestrange was indeed a very dangerous man.

I returned to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays to find things about the same as they were when I left. Millicent was still away on extended holiday in Rome and the others were full of tales of their Christmas. And Draco was still complaining... as usual.

I found it increasingly difficult not to say anything to him anymore, as I was under Zella's strict command to do. Instead I focused all my energy on ignoring him and he seemed amused at my efforts.

"Cat got your tongue, Parkinson?" he inquired one day in Transfiguration. He seated himself at my table without so much as a by-your-leave.

I smiled at him, but it was a frosty smile. One that carried a look of daggers with it.

He remained unperturbed, gray eyes glinting as he leaned forward out of his lounging position to put his face near to my own.

"Or are you too..." he gave a delicate pause, "intimidated to speak in the presence of one so attractive as myself? Or could it be that you have finally taken up on those skills you were lacking all these years?" He took on a quoting, lecturing tone. "Women are to be seen not heard, and only used for the purpose to please their male companions who so desire it."

"Don't flatter yourself," I muttered, busying myself with opening books and preparing for the lesson.

"Truth hurts doesn't it?" he whispered in my ear.

I was surprised that those near to us did not hear my teeth grinding as I clenched my jaw angrily. He waited, relishing my reaction, although only those truly trained in our ways could have perceived a reaction; to others my expression had not changed.

"You would know all about pleasing the male companions of Slytherin wouldn't you?" I retorted back in a sweet honeyed voice, gesturing towards Crabbe and Goyle.

It was going far, almost too far to go with a Malfoy. Enough so that I recognized and defied the dire situation I was currently placing myself in.

His eyes widened in shock, expression taunt and then he laughed!

I stared at him dumbly.

As Professor McGonagall entered the room he winked - actually winked - and whispered, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

It was then that I discovered that Draco enjoyed baiting me, hoping to stir me to produce sarcastic and flippant responses. Call it a sparring of words if you will.

I smirked as I turned towards the front of the classroom. He had no idea what he was in for.

"May I sit here?"

I looked up at Blaise Zabini in surprise before moving aside to allow him room at the table. I smiled at him hesitantly.

There was still not a lot known about the "new boy", as we had so often taken to calling him. We later learned that he was from a very prestigious and wealthy pureblooded family in Italy and had transferred here for the better curriculum Hogwarts offered other than the small private school he had been at. The fact that he was wealthy and revered had immediately placed him in the acceptable category of typical Slytherins. It remained to be seen exactly where he would go within our circle however.

"Quiet family," Draco had told me one night while studying. "Neutral to our ways, not for or against."

Which simply meant that the Zabinis were not for Voldemort; nor did they oppose him. It was something to be admired that they had remained neutral to such a decision so long. Those with wealth and power did not stay that way often. It made me wonder as to what kind of man his father was. But Blaise was still a Slytherin, and that was enough for the rest of us.

He didn't talk much during Potions but worked quietly over his cauldron. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he was as accomplished at Potions as myself.

"We will be partnering up for your projects on the Windroot Mixture," Professor Snape informed us towards the end of the lesson as he handed out the bottled vials of the potion.

The project would require us to analyze all the ingredients in the liquid with its precise measurements. I could hardly wait to get my hands on it. Potions was a strange obsession of mine.

I looked towards Millicent to affirm our partnering for the project before remembering that she had come down with Snivellitis over holiday (some strange snivelling syndrome that impaired speech as well as breathing). Tracey and Daphne had already partnered up, talking quietly.

My mouth pursed into a petulant frown, hands on hips. Nott and Malfoy, Crabbe and Vincent...

I sneered at the nearby Gryffindors as Longbottom dropped his vial, shattering glass everywhere as the potion seeped through the cracks of slate covering the dungeon floor. I would rather die than partner up with one of them.

A voice cleared itself beside me and I looked at Blaise in surprise. He watched me, unsure before opening his mouth.

"I'm not going to do all the work," I instantly interrupted him, turning to clean our area as the bell rang.

"And if you don't do your share of the work I'll be forced to hex you. I happen to know a nasty Conjunctivitis Curse."

I smiled up at him in invitation to share the joke. He just blinked in surprise, as being an outcast among us - somewhat - I suspected he wasn't used to being included.

He grinned, an attractive sight on his rugged face. "Fine," he said in a deep pleasing voice, "doesn't look like I get much say."

I nodded. "You don't," I informed him.

His laughter followed me out the door as we made our way to our next class.

It was amazing how fast my first year at Hogwarts passed. Before I knew it I was on a train for home, my friends chatting excitedly around me. Rumours had been flying everywhere about Potter's supposed defeat of the Dark Lord at school. I myself found it hard to believe that a first year could defeat the greatest wizard to be known since Salazar or even Merlin! Apparently so did the others.

"It wasn't right of Dumbledore to give him all those points," Daphne pouted. "We earned ours fair and square!"

Theodore nodded his agreement. "Damn teachers are always favoring him though."

I looked towards Draco expecting him to make some snide comment. He never passed up a dig towards Potter. The blonde remained looking silently out the window however, his expression stony. He was strangely distant throughout the whole ride home.

I stopped him with a hand on his arm once we reached Platform Nine and Three Quarters; we remained the only two left in the compartment.

"Are you alright?" I asked, looking up at him in question.

"Fine," he snapped. "Just bloody brilliant!"

My brows drew together in confusion, causing him to sigh. "Drop it Parkinson," he whispered, head bowed. "I don't want to talk about it."

I nodded, stepping away to allow him to walk past me. It wasn't my place to pester him.

He paused in his passage to kiss me briefly on the cheek, lips soft against my skin. "Thanks Pansy," he said softly, before leaving me by myself, mouth dropped open in shock. (Do you think a tad OOC? I was thinking of maybe changing it to a gratified smile, or a gentle squeeze of hand. What do you think?)

_Did I just hear a thank you from a Malfoy? _


End file.
